


The Joys of Cold Waves

by Misty_Floros



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), F/F, Fluff and Humor, Ineffable Wives | Female Aziraphale/Female Crowley (Good Omens), Meet-Cute, Minor Injuries, hint of angst related to having Gabriel & Co. as your siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:35:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29779002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misty_Floros/pseuds/Misty_Floros
Summary: The streets are iced over. Aziraphale has to run to catch her bus in order to arrive on time to a dreaded family meeting.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 31





	The Joys of Cold Waves

Aziraphale took tiny, cautious steps over the cobblestones. They were covered in a layer of ice so thin you couldn’t tell it was there until you were rudely notified of the fact by tumbling down on your backside.

She looked over her shoulder and saw the bus she needed to catch rapidly approaching the stop. She didn’t want to miss it. It was her aunt’s annual get-together, and all of her siblings would be there, and she’d already been late to these sort of gatherings so many times. Oh, it’d be a such a nuisance if she were late again. _Here comes Aziraphale, the chronically single, reclusive sibling who is so disorganised she can’t ever make it on time_ , she thought bitterly in a haughty tone that sounded a lot like Michael.

She started running, her brogues – absolutely not intended for any kind of sports activity, except perhaps chess – clacking against the frozen pavement. She had never cared for running, and that sentiment certainly hadn’t improved with the years.

The distance left between herself and the bus station looked like a hundred yards at most.

Standing a ways apart from the other people waiting at the station, as if they didn’t want to be associated with the rest, stood a lanky person, who was wearing sunglasses. In winter.

Aziraphale considered that as she ran and had to admit it was true that snow reflected a large part of sun rays, and the stranger surely had their reasons. What Aziraphale couldn’t justify, however, was the entirely insufficient amount of clothing they were wearing. Considering the current temperatures, what kind of madperson wore only a light jacket? And no gloves either! Aziraphale fought the urge to stop to remove her large scarf and wrap it around them. It could probably go around their torso, like a cocoon. They were really awfully skinny. All the more reason to wear thick clothing. They’d just get sick this way.

One moment, Aziraphale was approaching the bus station at a light jog, and the next, as she was passing the stranger with the lacking winter wardrobe, her shoe slipped, and she rapidly lost her balance with an ungraceful flailing of limbs.

In the blink of an eye, the unsuitably dressed person moved towards her, and before Aziraphale could land on the freezing stone, they stuck their arms out to catch her.

Their pale hands – must be downright freezing, the poor dear – gripped Aziraphale’s forearms with the good intention of steadying her, and then the person promptly slipped.

They took the already unsteady Aziraphale crashing down, and the two of them landed in a pile of limbs, which there somehow seemed to be more of than there should have been.

“Ow,” said the person, trapped under her arm.

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale exclaimed. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah. You’re just crushing my leg.”

Aziraphale scrambled up, feeling disoriented. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed the bus arriving at the station. She held out a gloved hand to the stranger.

Pale fingers closed around her palm, and the person started lifting themself off the ground, only to curse and retract their hand, wincing. They cradled their hand against their chest.

“Are you hurt?” Aziraphale asked worriedly.

“I’m fine.” They put their other hand in Aziraphale’s and pulled themself up. The motion made Aziraphale’s shoes slide on the ice anew, and they both wobbled, hands connected, trying to find their footing. The stranger started chuckling under their breath, which made Aziraphale let out a giggle as well.

They managed to steady themselves, though if it was thanks to each other’s help or rather despite it was anyone’s guess.

“You’ll miss your bus,” the stranger pointed out. Their hand was still hanging at their side, and they rubbed the bottom of their spine with the other, grimacing.

“Never mind the bus. Are you all right?”

“Ngh. Landed on my arse.”

 _Charming_ , Aziraphale thought dryly. She eyed the arm they kept stiffly at their side. “Is your arm all right?”

“I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Does your wrist hurt? Might be sprained or broken.”

The person said something like, “Nyaugh,” which wasn’t convincing in the least.

“Let me have a look,” she said, although her medical training consisted of first aid classes at secondary school. Which had been in the late 80s. Well, she reckoned she’d be at least able to make a sling.

The person held out their arm, and Aziraphale put her palm underneath their wrist, supporting it. She stared hard at the part of their wrist peeking out from under their faux leather sleeve, trying to decipher if something was out of the ordinary.

“Can you turn it over?” she asked.

The person tried to do so, only to stop after the slightest motion. “Shit. I guess it might be sprained or something.”

“Perhaps you should get it checked out at a hospital.”

Aziraphale couldn’t see their eyes, but she had the impression they’d just rolled them.

“It’s probably just a bit bruised. No big deal.”

Aziraphale frowned. She thought about the level of concern acceptable to have for a slightly injured stranger. Then she glanced at the bus disappearing in the distance. She thought some more. “It’d be safer to have an X-ray or something, though. Just to make sure.”

She was still holding the person’s wrist, and she didn’t quite want to let go for fear that the loss of support would hurt them. And they weren’t pulling their hand back, so any unnecessarily prolonged contact was on them.

“Seriously, don’t worry about it,” the person said. “I can get an X-ray if it doesn’t get better.”

They seemed to realise Aziraphale was still holding their hand, and dropped their arm back to their side, wincing slightly. They adjusted their sunglasses with their other hand. Then they started fiddling with the black beanie covering their wavy red hair, pushing it up from where it had slid down to their eyebrows.

Aziraphale folded her arms. “Oh, I’m afraid I’ll have to insist. After all, it’s my fault you hurt yourself like this.”

“It’s not your fault I tried to do a good deed for once and failed.”

There was something self-deprecating in their tone that Aziraphale didn’t like. “You didn’t fail. I would have likely got hurt if I didn’t, well, land on you. So. If you don’t have any plans for this afternoon, I suggest we take a trip to the nearest A and E.”

“ _We_? Listen, this isn’t necessary. It doesn’t hurt that much, and I’m sure it can sort itself out on its own.”

“I insist. Please. I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if I knew you got hurt for my sake and didn’t get the right treatment.”

The person tilted their head and Aziraphale thought she was being surveyed. It was difficult to tell what the verdict might be, however, what with the dark lenses. “Hm. Well, if you _insist_.”

“I do,” Aziraphale nodded resolutely.

The person sighed in defeat. “It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do. Still, you don’t have to go with me.”

Aziraphale faltered. “It would give me a peace of mind. If it doesn’t bother you, of course. I’d hate to –”

“Fine, fine. Suit yourself. If you don’t have anywhere else to be.”

“I don’t.”

They had to take a bus in the opposite direction. As they sat side by side, Aziraphale pulled out her relic of a mobile phone and typed a quick message. _Hello Gabriel, I’m terribly sorry, but I won’t be able to make it today. Had an accident on the way. Say hello to the others for me._

* * *

The X-ray image showed that Antonia’s wrist was only slightly sprained. Oh, yes, Aziraphale had learnt her name during the ride. She’d also found out that she worked for a political paper, one that Aziraphale knew but didn’t particularly care for. It was the sort which wasn’t as much aligned with an ideology as it distanced itself from all of them, pages full of cynical criticism and acerbic satire. At least the cartoons were funny.

Antonia had let it slip that she wasn’t particularly thrilled about her job, and without a family, she thought it feasible to at least partially retire in a few years.

“I’ve thought about opening a sort of garden centre slash flower shop,” she’d mentioned. “With potted plants, seeds and things. I could take people’s badly cared for plants and fix them up. And make money from it, of course, don’t take me for a Samaritan. I think I could awaken a bit of entrepreneurial spirit in me and whatnot. Keep myself busy.”

Aziraphale watched Antonia’s lively expressions as she talked about her life, and then found herself sharing stories about eccentric customers who frequented her secondhand bookshop, in hopes they would make Antonia laugh. She went with her to the hospital; lent her her giant scarf and watched her wrap herself in it just as Aziraphale had envisioned; offered her her gloves, which Antonia declined.

She found Antonia’s company comfortable, and conversation flowed easily. Aziraphale was growing a very tiny bit enamoured of her.

“I’m glad it’s nothing serious,” she said as they left the medical facility.

“Yeah. Told you it wasn’t.”

“I was simply worried,” Aziraphale protested, though it wasn’t the whole truth.

“I know. Honestly, it’s kind of endearing. You don’t even know me. You have literally zero obligation whatsoever to worry about me.”

Aziraphale’s mind focused entirely too much on the “endearing” part. She coughed. “I must confess I might have had an ulterior motive.”

One eyebrow rose above the frames of sunglasses. Antonia still had them on. Aziraphale hadn’t asked why. “Really now?” A small smirk tugged up the corner of Antonia’s lips.

“Oh, nothing untoward, I wouldn’t… But you know how I said I didn’t have anywhere to be right now?”

“Yeah?” Antonia prompted slowly.

“I’m afraid I wasn’t being entirely truthful with you.” She paused. “I was on my way to a family gathering. I just didn’t exactly…”

Antonia’s lips gained an amused tilt.

“It’s very rude of me, of course,” Aziraphale continued, “but the truth is, I wasn’t very keen on going there, and our little incident was just the perfect excuse to…”

“You made me go to hospital and bother some poor radiography assistant so you wouldn’t have to visit your family?” Antonia was grinning, but all her grins were kind of shark-like, so Aziraphale wasn’t quite sure where she stood.

“No! I mean, getting your wrist checked was a good thing. But it’s true that I wouldn’t have been as adamant if it weren’t for that other factor.” She was starting to feel a bit bad about the whole thing. She couldn’t bring herself to regret it, however, when she’d got to chat with Antonia instead of having to make excruciating conversation with her siblings and their spouses. And then, what if the injury had been serious? Antonia mightn’t have sought treatment for herself. “I’m sorry I used your injury as an excuse.”

“Oh, no,” Antonia said, gripping Aziraphale’s forearm with her good hand and smiling at her. It was an amused smile, not one of a beast of prey about to tear apart its catch. “This is the best thing that’s happened to me all day. All week, maybe. Really, chaperoning a stranger all the way to A and E just so you’d avoid a get-together. Brilliant thinking.”

Antonia’s toothy smile was contagious, and Aziraphale found herself smiling tentatively as well. “Oh, thank you, I suppose.”

Antonia laughed. “Want to grab a coffee? There’s a mediocre hospital café just around the corner, if I remember right.”

“Brilliant idea. I hope they have something besides coffee, though. With the weather as it is, I could use a cup of hot chocolate. Oh, and it’d be splendid if they had one of those mulled fruit drinks. They’re so nice and sweet, and warm you right up.” She wiggled her shoulders happily.

Antonia’s smile had turned soft around the edges. “Let’s go then.”

They went.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
